


14 Days of Isolation

by smugdensmitchell



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, ballum - Freeform, ben x callum, but mostly just tooth-rotting fluff, callum x ben, during lockdown, just ballum being soft and in love basically, maybe a little bit of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23342374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smugdensmitchell/pseuds/smugdensmitchell
Summary: Ben and Callum are having to self-isolate together in the Mitchell household.This is a mini-series(of sorts)covering the different ways in which they spend their time.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 82
Kudos: 263





	1. Lockdown: Day One

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who submitted an idea for Ballum's 14 days in isolation! 
> 
> I've had some fantastic suggestions, and it's been a nice change to have so many different minds involved! 
> 
> I'll try and update this once a day for the next two weeks, but apologies in advance if there is ever a delay. 
> 
> All the love, always xx
> 
>  **NOTE:** All that weird, angsty stuff involving Hugo/the big argument hasn't happened in this universe, ha!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt that Ben and Callum play a board game or cards.

It had been less than 24 hourssince the PM had addressed the British public on live television. 

It had been less than 24 hours since he had declared the country to be officially locked down. 

It had been less than 24 hours, and _already,_ Ben was uttering those two dreaded words to his boyfriend. 

_“I’m bored.”_

“How can you be _bored_ , Ben?” Callum huffs, folding his arms as he leans back against the kitchen bench. “We’ve barely been in isolation a day, this is _technically_ just like any other night.” 

Ben looks up at Callum from where he’s seated, sulking petulantly at the dining table. “Well it’s _not_ though, is it, babe?” he sighs, explaining further as his other half raises a brow, “I wanna go out, I wanna...I wanna _do_ stuff.” 

“When do you _ever_ wanna “do stuff”, Ben?” Callum scoffs, forming the quotation marks in the air, “you just want whatever you’re told you can’t ‘av.” 

There’s an innocent tilt of the head as Ben struggles to lipread, and Callum leans closer in response. “I _said,_ you just want whatever you’re told you can’t av,” he repeats, helpless to do anything but smirk as he sees Ben’s face drop. 

“S’not true,” the younger man says with conviction, but Callum continues to eye him up knowingly and, _eventually_ , Ben caves. “It’s a _bit_ true,” he says. 

“It’s a _lot_ true,” Callum jibes back, pecking his boyfriend lightly on the lips, “but you’re just gonna have to get used to it,” he continues, “because goin’ out and _“doin’ stuff”_ just ain’t an option.” 

There’s a momentary pause as Ben sighs, his bottom lip jutting out as he ponders their current situation. His fingers drum lightly against the tabletop, trying to come off innocently as he proposes an idea to Callum, “shall we just go to bed, then?” 

The older man pulls a face, whipping his phone out of his back pocket to check the time. “It’s only just gone seven, Ben.”

“Well, I didn’t say we had to go to sleep,” he suggests both verbally and physically, scanning his other half with unapologetic and ravenous eyes. 

Callum just sighs in return, shaking his head at the predictable nature of his boyfriend’s proposition. “We didn’t get out of bed till half-past two,” he deadpans, his expression unamused, “I ain’t goin’ back to bed with you, yet.” 

Ben’s brow furrows in response, and it’s only a matter of seconds before Callum realises that it _isn’t_ actually the result of a strop, but rather the result of poor hearing. He reaches his hand out for Ben to take, a hopeful expression emerging on the younger man’s face, but Callum simply pulls him towards the living room. 

“I said _no._ ”

_..._

“What do you mean _no?”_ Ben huffs, flinging his arms above his head, dramatically. 

Callum sighs, removing the ‘A’, and ‘T’ from the board and pushing the ‘E’ along in one swift, self-assured motion. _“Converse…”_ he starts. 

“...is _a word_ that ain’t gonna get me as many points,” Ben interrupts, rearranging the letters and returning them to their original layout. “Besides, who gave you the right to interfere with my answer?” 

“Ben,” Callum says, his tone comically irate, “you look me in the eyes and tell me when you’ve _ever_ used the word _‘conversate’.”_

Ben rolls his eyes, snapping up the instructions that lay beside him on the floor and waving them in his boyfriend’s face. _“_ Show me the rule in ‘ere that says the words you spell out ‘av to be words you _use a lot_.” 

“You can’t use a word a lot when...give me that,” Callum pauses momentarily, snatching the instruction booklet out of the younger man’s hands, “...when it _ain’t a word.”_

“I think you’ll find it is.” 

“I think you’ll find it _isn’t._ ” 

“Callum, I may be deaf, but I ain’t thick,” Ben points out, his legs folded and his arms crossed like some sort of _school boy_ being scorned in assembly, “I _know_ that’s a word.” 

Callum takes a swig of his beer as he jumps to his feet. “It’s not a bloody word,” he mumbles again under his breath, making a beeline for the chest of drawers to seek out a dictionary. 

After refusing Ben’s proposition to live out the rather _large_ remainder of their evening in bed, Callum had spent the best part of 25 minutes trying to convince his other half that they _did_ , in fact, have other options available. 

“We could watch a film?” he’d offered. 

“Not in the mood,” Ben had grumbled back. 

Callum tried again. “Well, how about we start a series, then?” he’d proposed, flashing a smile that Ben would’ve struggled to say _no_ to had he not been in such an outrageous tantrum, “...subtitles on, of course.” 

“Subtitles?” Ben had mocked, tilting his head with his voice an octave higher than usual, “tempting, but, uh...no.” 

“We could bake something,” was Callum’s next attempt, to which Ben replied with:

_“No thanks, Mary Berry.”_

And, of course, such continued until Callum reinforced the fact that Ben saying _no_ to everything would **not** , in fact, result in them spending the entirety of their isolation _having sex._

“A board game, then,” had been his final attempt, truly scraping the bottom of the barrel, “a game of cards?” 

As expected, it had initially gone down like a lead balloon, with Ben stating that he didn’t want to “do” _anything_ that wasn’t Callum **. __** _“Do I need to spell it out for you?”_ he’d asked, tone laced with part lust, part annoyance. 

And, _that’s_ how they’d wound up playing scrabble - Callum and his ludicrous light bulb moment at the mention of spelling.

 _Well,_ that and the fact that Ben found it pretty hard to say no to the offer of _“one game, **then** we can go to bed.” _

He smirks, watching as his boyfriend rummages determinedly around the top drawer. “Do you _really_ think my dad of all people is gonna own a dictionary, babe?”

Callum shuts the drawer in response with unnecessary force, averting his attention to the mobile phone in his back pocket. “Fine,” he grumbles, realising that he’s lapsed into poor diction and low volume again. “I’ll google it then!” he enunciates loudly, waving his phone in the air. 

Ben smiles to himself, observing the way the edge of Callum’s tongue pokes out in concentration. He’s tapping away furiously, eyes scanning the screen as he walks over to the sofa, face gradually dropping.

“Well?”

Callum simply tuts in response, rolling his eyes as he flops backwards onto the couch. He tosses his phone to one side, making eye-contact with everything _but_ his boyfriend. “You were right,” he mumbles, his voice barely a whisper. 

“What?”

“You were right,” Callum reiterates.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” Ben jibes, and he _is_ half serious, his hearing failing him again. He stretches over to pick up the phone that Callum had just discarded, grinning as he catches sight of the screen. _"Conversate,”_ he reads with pride, _“verb -_ to engage in conver—.” 

“Yes, _alright,”_ Callum cuts in, snatching his phone back and lifting himself up slightly, popping it back into his pocket, “I get it.”

Ben clambers up onto his knees, shuffling over to the other man and settling between his legs. “Don’t be a sore loser, babe,” he mocks, hands settled gingerly on Callum’s thighs, his palms up-over as an open invitation.

“Err, I ain’t _lost_ yet,” Callum whines back, but he laces his fingers through Ben’s anyway, helpless to do anything _but._ He squeezes the younger man’s hands gently, bemused by his own poor gamesmanship. “I don’t wanna play anymore,” he grumbles softly, but there’s a small smile threatening to materialise as he sighs, “does this mean I owe you an apology?” 

Ben involuntarily smiles back, floored by the emotions aroused in such a small, _unimportant_ moment. Here _._ Playing games. Bickering over scrabble as the rest of the country faces up to mid-quarantine _meltdown._

And yet, amidst it all, _this is happiness_ , Ben thinks. 

“You don’t owe me an apology,” he mutters, leaning in a little closer. 

Callum frowns, gaze travelling between _eyes, lips, eyes._ “I don’t?” 

“No,” Ben mouths back, releasing Callum’s hands as his own travel upwards. He kicks one of his legs back, _not-so-accidentally_ scattering the letters that once were placed, now all over the carpet. “I did _warn_ you that scrabble was no fun.” 

Callum leans forward in response to the touch, readjusting himself on the sofa so his other half has the room to climb up onto him. “You did,” he murmurs back, capturing Ben’s lips with his own, “right again.” 

Ben pulls back momentarily, although his forehead doesn’t really break from Callum’s, speaking against his mouth. 

_This is happiness._

“I always am.” 


	2. Lockdown: Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt that Callum gets overprotective of Ben (regarding the virus) because of the fact his lungs collapsed when he was shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome to day two!! 
> 
> Thanks for all the lovely feedback yesterday :) 
> 
> Again, I'll try and update this once a day for the next two weeks, but apologies in advance if there is ever a delay.
> 
> All the love, always xx
> 
>  **TW:** Mentions of Coronavirus.

Things had felt pretty normal today. 

_Well,_ as normal as they could be given the circumstances, Callum thinks. 

Ben’s spirits had been higher than usual, that’s for sure. He seemed to be enjoying the fact that he could excuse almost anything and _everything_ away with _“I can’t do that, Callum, we’re in lockdown,”_ and somehow, foolishly, it was working. 

Sure, the success of such was **nothing** to do with good logic or reasoning. 

Responding to “Ben, can you hang your dressing gown up instead of just chucking it over the back of the sofa?” with _“I can’t do that, Callum, we’re in lockdown”_ made very little sense. No sense at all, in fact. 

But, Callum accepted it anyway, just for the simple fact that his boyfriend had been smiling the last couple of days. Joking. _Laughing._

Ever since losing his hearing, ever since being told the operation was _weeks_ away, Ben had come off a little empty. Vacant behind the eyes, and understandably so, like he couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening to him. 

The global chaos taking place must feel like a small weight off of Ben’s shoulders, Callum supposes; a little bit of _togetherness_ for once. A collective struggle, something everyone understands far and wide. It must be somewhat comforting to face that as opposed to _personal_ chaos for once. _Loneliness._

And so, if watching Callum march around in a huff after hearing the lockdown response _yet again_ was somewhat amusing for Ben? So be it. 

Of course, Callum knew the novelty would wear off eventually. 

He just didn’t realise that it would wear off onto _him._

“I’m going to the shops, babe,” Ben chimes, head peering briefly around the door, “do you want anything?”

Callum’s focus shifts from the TV to his boyfriend, his head whipping round almost involuntarily. “Err, no you’re not, Ben, we’re in lockdown,” he instructs, mentally _face-palming_ as soon as he hears himself speak. 

“Woah,” Ben drags out, his brow lifting in amusement, “2 days in and you’re already startin’ to sound like me.” 

“Yeah well, you _do_ tend to repeat yourself,” Callum grins at him, fondly, “it ain’t hard to pick up on what you say.” He points the remote at the television, turning it off as he gets up off of the sofa, “you sit down and, uh...I’ll go to the shops for ya.” 

“What?” 

“The shops, Ben,” Callum repeats, a little closer and a little _louder_ this time, “I’ll go for you.” 

The younger man frowns, narrowing his eyes at his boyfriend as he does so. “Why?” he asks, scanning his face as though he’s suspicious of an ulterior motive, “I’ll be 20 minutes, tops.” 

“What is it you need?” Callum asks, failing to cover the concerned edge to his tone. “Boris said _essentials_ _only,_ remember?” 

Ben laughs out loud at that, lifting his hand and tickling lightly beneath the other man’s chin. “Look at you, babe,” he grins, “on a first name basis with the PM.”

Callum’s smile comes off shy as he lowers his chin into the touch. “You’re funny,” he mumbles, bringing his own hand up to meet with Ben’s and enveloping it gently. “Just let me go to the shops, instead, yeah? You can, uh, write me a list or summing,” Callum gives his hand a light squeeze, “I’ll get whatever you need.”

The younger man shrugs. “I mean I only wanted crisps, really...some more milk, at a push,” he adds with an eye roll, “if there’s any left, that is.” 

“Okay,” Callum nods, “I can do that.” He runs a hand softly through Ben’s hair, although the affectionate gesture doesn’t waver the other man’s suspicions. 

“Why are you so determined to keep me in the house?” 

A small smile plays on Callum’s lips as he replies, “I’m not, I’m just bein’ nice.” A frown shortly follows, “is that so hard to believe?” 

“Soft,” Ben mutters, reaching on his toes to place a chaste kiss on Callum’s cheek. “Kettle Chips, please.”

Callum grins. “Wouldn’t _dream_ of gettin’ anything else.” 

…

“I’ve got some bad news,” Callum shouts down the hallway, cradling three bags of kettle chips close to his chest. When he opens the door, Ben is sprawled out across the sofa, cheek resting against the palm of his hand as he stares at the TV mindlessly. “I’ve got bad news, Ben,” Callum repeats, noticing the lack of reaction to the first time he said such. 

The younger man props himself up this time, neck twisting around to meet Callum’s gaze. “I ain’t watchin’ the news,” he mutters in confusion. 

Callum smiles a little sadly to himself, but he’s careful not to let it show. He walks over to where Ben is laid, crouching before him and popping the kettle chips onto the coffee table. “No, I said I’ve got _bad news,_ Ben,” he says, his voice clear, but gentle, “I couldn’t get any milk.” 

“Oh,” is Ben’s response, seemingly unphased. “I was more bothered about the crisps, if I’m honest.” 

“Well, I did get those,” Callum answers cheerily, “so I guess I’ll call that a success.” He waits for Ben to return the smile, but the moment never arrives. 

“You’re not a very good window, babe,” he cuts in as the silence falls imminently between them. He’s looking _around_ Callum, it’s blatantly obvious, but Callum won’t push it. 

He knows not to. 

Instead, he stands from where he’s crouching, pottering over to the other side of the couch and tapping Ben’s legs gingerly. It’s his way of saying _‘lift up, and I’ll join you.’_

“What’re we watching, then?” he asks a little cautiously, drawing small circles on Ben’s lower leg with his index finger. 

He isn’t expecting the answer that returns. 

“Y’know I’m fine, don’t you, Callum?”. 

Callum looks over at his boyfriend, but his eyes are still fixated on the TV screen. “Sorry?” 

“I’m fine,” Ben repeats, “you ain’t gotta...I dunno, _mother_ me.” He picks up the remote, muting the television as he shifts his gaze to meet Callum’s, “you know that, don’t you?” 

“I don’t understand,” Callum says, a frown materialising on his face, “wh-where’s all this come from?” 

Sighing, Ben shifts a little uncomfortably, pulling his boyfriend’s mobile from where it’s settled beneath a cushion. “You left this when you went out,” Ben explains, sitting himself up in a bid to communicate properly, “a-and I ain’t been pryin’, but…” 

Callum takes the device that’s handed to him, the tension in his head alleviating slightly as the pieces fall into place. “I left the screen open on my google searches,” he says, speaking aloud as he realises. 

Ben hums, his tone edging on bemused. _“Coronavirus - previous lung injury_... _Coronavirus - who is classed as high risk?”_ he recalls, shuffling across to read Callum’s screen alongside him, “although my personal favourite was - _will I always be at risk of respiratory problems after a punctured lung?_ I mean, you do realise it was _me_ that got shot, right? _”_ Ben jibes, prodding Callum gently in the side with a teasing smile on his face. 

“Very funny,” Callum deadpans, placing his phone face down on the arm of the chair. His chin lowers towards his chest, suddenly radiating insecurity. “I worry about you,” he mumbles, loud enough for Ben to just about make out. 

Ben sighs. “It was months ago, babe,” he reassures, but his tone is frayed with guilt as he adds, “you’ve been, um…you've been subject to injury _way_ more recently than I have, anyway.” 

It’s obvious to Callum, the way Ben’s voice trails off at the end, the way the sense of blame weighs heavy on his chest. He reaches out a hand, placing it tentatively on his other half’s shoulder. “Don’t do that...oi,” he murmurs, nudging Ben’s chin to capture his attention, _“don’t do that._ Don’t start thinkin’ about all that stuff.” 

Ben leans into the touch of Callum’s hand, bringing his own hand up to meet it, to _surround_ it. Gently, he guides both their hands down to rest on the couch, pressing his thumb into Callum’s palm in small, circular motions. “You need to stop worryin’ about me, babe,” he says delicately, careful not to come off patronising, “I can look after myself.” 

Callum raises an eyebrow. “Can you?” he queries, eliciting an insulted glare from Ben.

“Excuse me,” Ben retorts in disbelief, nudging his sock-covered foot against his boyfriend’s ankle, and Callum nudges back a little more gently. 

“Sorry,” he smiles, but it’s tainted with an element of sadness. “I don’t want you puttin’ yourself at risk, that’s all.” 

Ben exhales, gazing up at the man before him in awe, in trust. 

_In love._

He shuffles along even closer, slotting himself against Callum’s side as an arm snakes around him, pulling him in, surrounding Ben with an imminent feeling of security, an imminent feeling of _home._

“Am I, then?” he mumbles into Callum’s chest, goosebumps making themselves known to Ben as a hand weaves its way through his hair. 

“Are you what?” 

Ben smiles to himself, a frequent occurrence when he manages to make out something that’s been said. _Small victories._ “Am I high risk?” he asks, only _half_ serious, and he feels the vibrations in Callum’s chest as his boyfriend responds with a chuckle. 

“Well,” Callum says, glancing down and meeting Ben’s gaze, “do you experience any difficulty breathing?” 

A smirk emerges on the younger man’s face as Callum repeats himself, the question finally registering. “That depends on what we’re doing,” he says, throwing in a wink for good measure. It elicits a roll of the eyes from his boyfriend.

“I’m being serious,” Callum whines. 

“So am I,” Ben jibes back, but he takes Callum’s free hand in his own shortly after. “No,” he confesses, “I don’t.” 

“Okay,” Callum breathes out, pulling Ben even _closer_ and speaking directly into his ear, “then, uh...google says you’re safe, I think.” 

Ben’s shoulders lift a little, an involuntary response to the sensation of Callum’s voice tickling at sensitive skin. He cranes his neck upover, curious eyes searching those that await him. “So, you can stop worryin’ about me then,” he points out with a smile. 

Callum shakes his head. “I love you,” he says, and it’s the intensity of his gaze, the sincerity painted amidst specs of blue, that lets Ben know _exactly_ what he’s saying.

_“I’ll always worry about you.”_


	3. Lockdown: Day Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt that Callum and Ben do one of the 'P.E. with Joe Wicks' home workouts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, all! :) 
> 
> Day Three, already!
> 
> As usual, I'll try and update again tomorrow, but apologies in advance if there is ever a delay.
> 
>  **NOTE:** As I'm sure y'all can imagine, I have _never_ done one of the Joe Wicks P.E. workouts, so there is absolutely no factual research behind this one-shot, LOL.
> 
> All the love, always xx

When Ben had stretched out that morning, an unwelcome sensation of emptiness awaited him. It was something that he seldom woke up expecting, these days. 

Mornings were far more fulfilled nowadays, both physically _and_ emotionally. They were patterns drawn upon heated skin, and mindless discussions of silly dreams. Mornings were stolen kisses, now; touching, _holding._

They certainly weren’t _empty._

Ben had felt around, perhaps a tad lazily at first, pawing at the other side of the bed and expecting to feel something, to feel _someone._ He’d mumbled Callum’s name into his pillow more times than enough, a prayer that he’s so used to being answered.

But, _this time?_ This time he was met with silence. 

Eventually, he’d managed to force his eyes open, albeit somewhat reluctantly, fumbling on the bedside table for his glasses. But, it was only when he put them on that his eyes were _truly_ opened, walking straight into a recollection of the total _nightmare_ that lay ahead. 

They had been roped into participating in Lexi’s virtual P.E lesson this morning, and his boyfriend was already up and raring to go, _much_ to Ben’s utter despair. 

The arrangement came after Lola had facetimed them both the evening before, explaining that, despite the school being closed, Lexi’s class were still being encouraged to participate in extracurricular activities where possible. 

“She’s been really good, ‘aven’t you, Lex?” Lola had smiled fondly at her daughter, stroking an affectionate hand through her blonde locks. “She’s doin’ all her homework when I ask her to, an’ me and her did that Joe Wicks thing this mornin’, didn’t we, baby?”

“Oh, did I hear that right?” Ben had asked, both to the camera _and_ to Callum, “Joe Wicks?” He pulled a face, shoving a handful of Kettle Chips into his mouth as he did so, “can’t stand the self-righteous _prick.”_

“Errr, Ben, _enough,”_ Callum had cut in with widened eyes, his head gesturing sharply to the phone screen in a way that said _‘your daughter is listening’,_ “and stop talkin’ with your mouth full.” 

After that, being _ever_ the avid listener, Callum asked Lexi to “tell him more” about the virtual P.E lessons, agreeing without so much as an _ounce_ of hesitation as Lola asked if him and Ben wanted to take part the next day. 

“There you go, Lex,” Lola had beamed, “Daddy and Callum are gonna call you in the mornin’ and do P.E with you! How does that sound?” 

Of course, Lexi was elated. Callum couldn’t wait, _hence_ his early rise this morning. 

_Ben, however?_

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he grumbles, pulling an old pair of adidas shorts over the top of his boxers, “it’s half eight in the bloody morning.”

“Yeah well, _believe it,”_ Callum shouts from the bathroom, his tone _far_ more enthused than that of his other half, “‘cause you’re gonna need a lot more energy than that to encourage Lexi.” 

“What?” Ben yells back as he rummages through the drawer, trying to find a pair of socks that _don’t_ harbour a hole in them, “actually don’t repeat that, babe, I’m not sure I wanna hear it.” 

Callum practically _jogs_ throughinto the bedroom, grinning wildly as he catches a glimpse of the despairing look on Ben’s face. “I _said,_ you’re gonna need to have a bit more energy to encourage your daughter,” he explains, his eyes somewhatdevouring the sight before him, “nice shorts, by the way.” 

Ben shoves his boyfriend gently in the shoulder, but his annoyance is overshadowed by the smile on his face. “Don’t get used to it,” he warns, “honestly I could _kill_ Lola for this.” 

Callum sighs, accompanying such with an eye roll. “You can’t expect her to do it everyday, Ben,” 

“Well, she’s only done it _once,_ babe,” Ben groans, “and she’s already passed the book to us two.” He pulls a hoodie over the top of his head, and Callum doesn’t waste the opportunity to grab at the drawstrings, pulling his other half in for a quick kiss. 

“Lexi will appreciate it,” he mumbles with a smile, a little too softly at first. _“Lexi,”_ he repeats, clearer this time, “she’ll appreciate it, Ben.” 

The younger man simply hums in response, his tone far from convinced. He returns Callum’s smile, it would feel unnatural to do anything _but,_ before pulling away from their momentary embrace and muttering, “she better.” 

…

“Right, c’mon, I’ll put my hands on your feet, yeah?” Callum instructs above the noise of the YouTube video, demonstrating such visually so that his boyfriend can understand, “that way, they’ll stop liftin’ up.” 

Ben groans, lifting his back up approximately _three centimeters_ from the floor before collapsing back down again, his stomach muscles point blank _refusing_ to go any further. “I can’t do it,” he whines, trying to kick Callum’s hand off of his foot, “get off me.” 

The older man takes a quick glance at the laptop screen, a smile emerging on his face as he spots Lexi taking deep, over dramatic breaths with every sit-up that she does. She gives Callum a little wave, pausing to frown as she spots her dad _flat out_ on the floor. 

“What’s he doing?” she whines, clambering to her feet and running over to the screen with purpose, “Daaaad, what are you doing?” 

Callum reaches out a hand for Ben, pulling him to his feet in one swift movement asthe next exercise is announced. “Your Dad ain’t as fit as us two, Lex, that’s all,” he explains with a smirk, earning himself a shove in the arm from his boyfriend. 

“Errr, I actually heard that,believe it or not,” Ben retorts as he breaks out into a high-knee jog, “I’m _fine,_ Lex, look!” 

His daughter grins back with a thumbs up, lifting her legs up higher and higher as Joe encourages the viewers to do so, her blonde hair scraped back into an adorable ponytail that swings from left to right as she moves. 

“Y’know, I’m pleased I can’t hear a word he’s sayin’,” Ben comments breathlessly, glancing sideways at his boyfriend as he speaks, “I can tell just by _looking_ at him that it’s a load of Mr. Motivator _bollocks.”_

Callum shakes his head, but he fails to suppress the bemusement on his face. His movements come to a halt as he tunes into the voice from the YouTube video, pre-empting his other half’s reaction before it even arrives as the demonstration begins on screen. 

“No chance,” Ben says, holding his hands up in surrender at the sight of a press-up, “absolutely no chance.”

“Oh, c’mon Ben—”

“Don’t start, babe,” the younger man interrupts, running the palm of his hands over his face as he flops backover onto the sofa, “I ain’t doin’ that.” 

“You can put your knees on the floor, if that helps, Dad?” a small, upbeat voice sounds from the laptop screen, “that’s what I’m doing.”

Ben can’t quite catch anything that’s being said, but he’s quick to suppress the beat of sadness that tries to settle within his chest, focusing instead on the fact his boyfriend is on _all-fours_ on the floor. 

“Your dad’s just gonna sit this one out, darlin’,” he shouts across to his daughter before leaning forward, levelling his gaze with the other man. “Lovely view from up here,” Ben quips, and Callum glares back at him.

“Yeah, _dream on_ ,” he grins, forcing himself into another press-up, “how you gettin’ on, Lex?” 

“Fine,” she replies breezily, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before lowering herself again, “my arms hurt a bit, though.”

“That’s a good thing,” Callum reassures, his tone cheerful, “that means it’s working.” 

Ben rolls his eyes, nudging Callum’s form with his foot and compromising his balance, “don’t you listen to Callum, baby,” he advises, “don’t be puttin’ yourself through it if it hurts.”

Lexi shrugs into the camera as she climbs up onto her feet, using the time Joe spends talking to speak to them both for a moment. “It’s supposed to hurt, Dad,” she states matter-of-factly, crossing her arms as she gets her breath back, “tell him, Callum! Joe says _‘no pain, no gain.'”_

Callum takes on the role of messenger without any hesitance, smiling to himself as he anticipates Ben’s reaction. “Lexi reckons that Joe says _no pain, no gain,”_

“Ha!” Ben scoffs, “you wanna tell Lexi what I say back to Joe?” 

Callum raises a brow, his lips upturned into a fond smile, “I ain’t sure that’d be appropriate,” he muses. 

“Yeah, too right,” Ben replies through gritted teeth, lifting himself reluctantly from the couch as he spots his daughter doing some jumping jacks. “I can do this one,” he chimes. 

“Only cause it’s the _last exercise,_ Dad!” Lexi huffs, a touch of breathlessness making no waves in her attitude, “what’s the point?” 

Callum snorts, glancing sideways at Ben, who doesn’t seem to be reacting all that much. “You might wanna insult him a little louder, Lex,” he tells her, eliciting a somewhat vacant stare from his boyfriend. 

“What?” Ben asks unassumingly, and an element of guilt comes over Callum like some kind of cold sweat.

“Nothing,” he smiles, momentarily saddened by Ben’s inability to hear his daughter, but extra careful not to let it show, “she’s enjoyed herself, haven’t you, Lex?” 

Lexi nods enthusiastically with a smile, but she points her finger at the lens shortly after, “but you need to try as hard as Callum next time, Dad.” 

Ben frowns. “What’s she saying?” 

“She _said_ that you need to try as hard as _me_ , next time,” Callum repeats proudly, relishing in the unimpressed look on Ben’s face. 

“Yeah well, Callum’s only _trying_ ‘cause he fancies the instructor.”

Callum shrugs, his mouth upturning somewhat suggestively. “I mean, I’ve definitely seen worse,” he comments, and Lexi giggles at the mortified look on her dad’s face. 

...

Later, of course, Ben will act as nonchalant as possible when he asks Callum the question, something that’s been playing _far too prominently_ on his mind. 

“Do you think Joe Wicks is better lookin' than me, then?” 

The romantic in Callum will be keen to ease Ben’s mind, and he’ll do so. 

_He’ll do so without saying a word._


	4. Lockdown: Day Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt that Ben and Callum watch a British Sign Language tutorial together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, and welcome to day four! :) 
> 
> Hope you're all keeping well. 
> 
> As always, I'll try and update again tomorrow, but apologies in advance if there is ever a delay.
> 
>  **NOTE:** The suggestion was initially that Ben and Callum watch a BSL tutorial together, but I've altered it in a way that I believe would fit the characters and their respective states of mind. I hope that I've done it justice...I'll retire from writing if not, ha! 
> 
> All the love, always xx

Ben and Callum had officially hit a new milestone in their relationship. 

It wasn’t particularly exciting, it hadn’t been intentional, and it _certainly_ wasn’t a milestone that a couple in the average situation would acknowledge or celebrate. 

But, the situation for _everyone_ at the minute was everything **but** average, and so, for Ben and Callum, this was an accountable achievement. 

A momentous occasion, of sorts. 

They had officially spent four full days together. Four full _consecutive_ days. 

Not to mention, **without** killing one another. 

Sure, they’d spent weekends together in the past; Friday evenings through to Sundays, but even then, there were breaks in between. Ben would pop out _here,_ Callum would head out _there,_ and the option was always there to spend time together _away_ from the same four walls.

They could go out for lunch, perhaps, they could watch a film at the cinema, they could even spend time with Lola, Jay and Lexi. Things that, in hindsight, were very much taken for granted. 

Because, _now_ it’s just the three of them. 

Callum, Ben, and the latest addition - _Ben’s tendency to throw a strop._

Of course, neither of them would take responsibility for the presence of the latter, with the pair always placing the blame in the other’s back garden. Callum’s argument is that Ben’s temper is unnecessarily short, and Ben’s argument is that Callum is the one who _pushes him_ to the point of throwing a strop. 

_Well,_ that had been his argument this afternoon, anyway. 

“It’s a waste of time, Callum,” Ben had said, arms folded defensively across his chest, “I’m gonna get this operation, a-and it’s gonna be like none of this ever happened, alright?”

“Maybe,” Callum sighed, desperately trying _not_ to come off pessimistic about his other half’s surgery, “but, I just thought that in the meantime we could—”

“Yeah well, you thought wrong, Callum,” Ben snapped in return, setting out to leave the kitchen, “you thought wrong.” 

Callum had tried to follow him, his voice breaking slightly as it travelled down the hallway, “why do you always do this, Ben? W-why are you actin’ like this?” 

“Because _you_ push me to it!” 

And, that had been that. 

At **4:30pm** , Ben had vanished upstairs, Callum remained downstairs. 

It’s **7:15pm** , now, and they have _yet_ to cross paths again. 

Ben glances up from the screen of his laptop, irritated by the noise coming from the television on the wall. He picks up the remote, hitting the mute button in a bid to offer his undivided attention to the YouTube video playing out before him. 

It’s a British Sign Language tutorial - only the very basic, level one stuff - but a tutorial, nonetheless. 

On more than one occasion, Ben had walked in on Callum trying to learn the little things here and there; trying to get his head around the essentials needed for communication. 

If Ben’s being brutally honest, it gets his back up a lot of the time. His defences kick in and he becomes instantly irritable and frustrated; probably irritating and frustrating to _be around,_ too. 

But, Callum harbours the patience of a saint, seldom making Ben feel like he’s either of those things.

But, Ben isn’t stupid. He knows he is. 

In fact, he knows he was _earlier_ _today_ when Callum had suggested they watch one of the tutorials together. 

Ben had been raiding the cupboards for something to snack on, giving into _boredom-fuelled_ hungeronce again, and Callum had opened with his usual line of _“I’ve been thinking.”_

“Ominous,” Ben quipped back, “but go on.” 

In hindsight, he’d noticed an element of caution in Callum’s approach, hesitance in blue eyes that were so often confident these days. 

“Do you, uh...I thought maybe we could watch one of those sign language videos, later?” he’d offered, placing a tentative hand on the younger man’s elbow. 

Ben recalls the uncomfortable silence that had occurred, something neither of them were used to in one another’s company. 

“ _Sign language, Ben_ ,” Callum had repeated after getting no response, assuming that his other half simply hadn’t heard him, “we could watch a tutorial? Learn some stuff together?” 

And, just like that, Ben’s demons had come into play, materialising in the form of those all too _familiar_ emotions. 

Irritation. Frustration. _Denial._

He’d been too hard on Callum, he knows that now. In fact, lately, it’s more often than not that Ben is _always_ too hard on Callum. 

That man is persistent, but never pushy. He’s honest, but never hurtful. 

And, _God only knows_ he’s patient, but he’s also **human.**

A human that feels the sharper end of Ben’s tongue. A human that dances to the soundtrack of Ben’s stubborn silence. A human that stands at the _far_ end of a long, _long_ distance as Ben pushes him away. 

It must be exhausting. 

It _is_ exhausting.

Exhausting for Callum to experience it, and exhausting for Ben to watch it happen, knowing that it’s his own doing. 

That’s why he’s sitting here now, notepad to one side as he jots down a few pointers from the _very_ thing that Callum had been encouraging him to watch. It’s laying out very easy phrases - ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’, ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, ‘how are you?’ and a variety of ways in which you can answer such, to name a few.

But, there’s one term in particular that Ben gives his best efforts to, one term in particular that he _knows_ is going to stick far easier than the rest. 

In the moment, that’s the one he focuses on. 

… 

When Callum opens his eyes, he feels a little disorientated. 

His neck hurts from the way he’s been laying, his concept of time is _entirely_ out of the window, and he barely even recognises the film that’s playing on the television. 

The only thing he does know is that, whatever the film is, it obviously isn’t good enough to justify him staying conscious. 

He stretches as he sits up on the couch, squinting at the clock on the mantelpiece to establish the time of day. 

**7:56pm.**

Over three hours since they’d each claimed a separate section of the house, and _still_ no sign of Ben. 

Of course, there’s a part of Callum that had contemplated going upstairs on numerous occasions. He’d been ready to apologise the very minute that Ben walked away. Ready to listen, ready to _understand._

But, there’s another part of Callum too - the confident part, the decisive part, the part of him that **knows** Ben. 

And, it’s that part of him that _knows_ Ben needs space and time when they have this kind of discussion, because there isn’t a shadow of doubt in Callum’s mind that Ben is still in denial. 

He still wants to believe that his hearing loss is temporary, he still wants to believe that the operation _will_ work at all costs. He still wants to believe that things haven’t changed for him, that nothing in his life needs to be altered. 

That’s why Callum’s better judgement had told him to take a step back for a few hours. He wouldn’t be the one to force Ben out of his belief system, to charge in and tell him that his life needed altering _right this second._

This was Ben’s journey, _not_ Callum’s, and he was willing to let Ben take those steps in his own time.

He’d just be sure to walk at his pace, to be right by his side along the way. 

_Still,_ that kind of mindset doesn’t always make things any easier for Callum. It doesn’t soften the blow when Ben yells at him that he doesn’t understand, or alleviate his sadness as he watches Ben walk away from an argument.

It certainly doesn’t lessen the utter _relief_ he feels when he hears the door creak open, looking on as his boyfriend steps into the room. 

Callum stands up, careful not to be too abrupt in doing so. He’s trying his level best to read Ben’s expression, to establish whether he’d come down to talk things out, to act as if nothing had happened, or simply to _rip Callum a new one._

Regardless of what the reason may be, the older man feels it isn’t his place to make the first move. He doesn’t want to shower Ben in ‘ _sorrys’,_ because he isn’t - not for trying to help, anyway. He doesn’t want to ask if they can forget about it, either, because that’s not going to do anyone any favours. 

Above all, though, he simply doesn’t want to push anything.

And so, Callum stands, and he waits, and he _watches_ , as Ben clenches his hand, somewhat softly, into a fist that hangs by his side. He seems apprehensive, _nervous even,_ eyes harbouring unshed tears and his fist trembling ever-so-slightly as he brings it to hover above his heart.

At first, Callum’s brow furrows in confusion, all until Ben starts to make small, circular motions on his chest with his fist. 

Then it clicks. 

It clicks that he’s seen this motion before, he’s _learnt_ it before, himself.

 _He’s saying sorry,_ Callum thinks. 

_“I’m sorry,”_ Ben mouths, and it’s enough. 

More than enough. 

Callum makes his way towards his other half, a little overwhelmed, a little speechless, _a_ _lot_ in love. There are a million things that he wants to say, a million _thank yous,_ a million apologies of his own. 

But, instead, he says nothing. 

He just pulls Ben into his arms like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, holding him close enough to blur the line between one body ending and another starting. 

It’s Callum’s way of walking at Ben’s pace.

By his side. 

_Always._


	5. Lockdown: Day Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt that Ben and Callum watch a Boxset together (obviously, the boxset I selected was _Prison Break)._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves.
> 
> I cannot apologise _enough_ for this delay, I really, really can't
> 
> I've had some stuff going on, and writing just wasn't something I could prioritise, but I'm hoping that I'm back now :) 
> 
> I will absolutely try and update again tomorrow, but **(major)** apologies this time if there is ever a delay in future, which, you know, there may well be. 
> 
> All the love (and extra this time around), always xx

When it comes to TV shows, Ben and Callum are rarely in agreement.

Whilst Callum finds himself enjoying more educationalprogrammes (or _‘mind-numbing bollocks’_ as Ben calls them), his other half much prefers the ‘trash television’, trying to justify such with the argument that it’s _“just easy watching”._

As it stood, the pair had just about accepted the fact that they weren’t _ever_ going to enjoy a show together. 

_Sure_ , they watch TV with one another all of the time, particularly at the minute given the circumstances of lockdown. Most days, Ben spends a solid chunk of his time completely engrossed in whatever events are unfolding before him onscreen, often whilst cuddled into Callum’s side. 

Callum simply plays on his phone absentmindedly, making the odd sarcastic comment and cursing himself for being _far_ too soft with his boyfriend. 

Ben gets the pick of the television every time. Ben hogs the TV remote **every time.**

And Callum just let’s him. Because it’s _Ben._

But, of course, everyone has their limits, and Callum has his too, especially when he comes in from the shops to find his other half watching the _same_ movie for the third time that week. 

“I ain’t watching this again,” he stresses after emptying the shopping, standing in front of the TV with a frown, his hands placed firmly on his hips. “Ben, I _said_ I ain’t watching this again,” he repeats for clarity, using hand gestures to support his speech, “no chance.” 

Propping himself up with his elbows, Ben juts his bottom lip out, his brows knitted together in disappointment. “It’s my favourite,” he pleads, looking like a child robbed of a blanket, “I thought you liked it, now?” 

“Yeah, I do,” Callum confesses, glancing back at the screen and shaking his head at the sight of _Miley Cyrus_ dramatically packing her alter-ego’s wig into a compact make-up case, “but not enough to watch it _this_ many times _.”_

He walks over to the couch, lifting Ben’s legs from where they’re stretched out and sitting himself beneath, allowing his boyfriend to leave them draped across his own. 

Ben readjusts himself almost instantly, swivelling himself around so that his legs take up the other side of the sofa instead, curling into his boyfriend’s side and sighing into the familiar smell that he’d come to find such comfort in.

The familiar smell of Callum. 

The familiar smell of _belonging._ Somewhere. _With_ _someone._

Curling his fingers into Ben’s hair, Callum refuses himself the luxury of smiling. It’s tempting, _sure,_ but to smile would be to lure his other half into a false sense of security, allowing Ben to make the assumption that ‘ _Hannah Montana: The Movie’_ is an acceptable choice by Callum’s standards. 

_It isn’t._

Not again, anyway _._

Instead, Callum has hyped himself up all day to start an American crime drama on Netflix, that of which had been suggested by Jay. 

As a significant figure in both of their lives, Jay knew the kind of thing that would captivate both Ben and Callum’s attention. He had been _certain_ that this would, for sure. 

“It’s called _‘Prison Break’_ ,” he’d told Callum over the phone with enthusiasm. “I’m tellin’ you now, mate, me and Lo’ started it the other day and we’re already on Season Two...it’s _well_ good.” 

Callum had hummed thoughtfully in response, already partially sold. “You know what Ben’s like, though. He hates everything I like.” 

“Then, just show him the main bloke in it,” Jay had chimed down the line, “trust me... _even I would.”_

And so, Callum does, albeit _much_ to his boyfriend’s amusement. 

“I’m quite offended, babe,” Ben mutters in response, the photograph on Callum’s phone screen _finally_ diverting his attention from the movie playing out on the TV, “do you _honestly_ think I’m shallow enough to watch a programme just ‘cos there’s a bitta’ _eye candy_ in it?” 

Callum stares back at him, eyebrows risen and eyes wide; _knowing._

“You thought correct,” Ben finally exhales, “stick it on.” 

...

“Oh, I can’t watch,” Callum says dramatically, his forearm draped over his eyes in a bid to shield himself, “he’s gonna get caught, what’s he _doing?”_

Ben’s frown is obvious and unapologetic as he tugs at his boyfriend’s arm, a desperate attempt to pull it back to it’s rightful position - _draped around Ben._ “I ain’t got the _foggiest_ what you just said, babe, but...don’t move your arm again, please.”

Callum huffs, allowing himself to be pulled back in by his other half, but not without vocalising his distress. “I dunno how you’re so calm about this,” he states, tickling the top of Ben’s hair to capture his attention, “I keep holdin’ my breath for _ages_ at a time.” 

“I dunno,” Ben hums, absentmindedly, “I see a lot of myself in this _Scofield_ bloke.” 

Callum grins to himself, although Ben can’t see the way it helplessly spreads across his face. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Ben chimes, bringing a hand to rest tentatively on Callum’s chest. “Y’know, the whole _calm and collected_ kinda thing,” he reasons, and it elicits a harsh, loud laugh from his other half. 

Ben can’t hear it, as such, but he _knows_ it. He can feel the vibrations in his chest. 

“And, what about the irresistible charm?” Callum says, humouring him, “the good looks?” 

Ben’s neck twists a little, looking up at the older man with bemusement embedded in his features. “Good looks?” he enquires, well under the assumption that he’d misheard what had been said. 

“Hm,” Callum smirks, “maybe I was pushing it a bit with that one.” 

The hand resting upon Callum’s heartbeat hits down on his chest with a _thud,_ and Ben’s crestfallen expression elicits an immediate apology from his boyfriend. “Sorry,” he murmurs, although the only apology Ben can _really feel_ is that in the form of a kiss placed upon his hairline, “anyway, I really hope he gets with the doctor.” 

“Nice diversion of topic,” Ben grumbles with a pout, pausing in thought afterwards. _“Besides,_ the doctor can get to the back of the queue.” 

Callum scoffs, picking up the remote and pausing the show in spite. _“Meaning?”_ he deadpans. 

Ben tried to suppress his smile, shrugging at Callum with certified _seriousness_ on his face. _“Meaning,_ he’s got an appointment with me, first,” he comments, not all that surprised when his boyfriend scoffs indignantly. 

“You’re a bit too _short_ for him, I reckon,” Callum muses, the episode still paused as he enjoys their _to-and-fro_ a little too much. 

Ben’s expression is one of sheer offence, but laughter shortly follows. “A bit too _male,_ more like,” he comments back, stretching an arm across his boyfriend’s torso and grabbing the remote. 

The episode resumes, the subtitles rolling alongside such and recapturing both of their attention. Still, not enough for Callum to refrain from elongating the conversation at hand. “I beg to differ,” he mutters, his hand resuming it’s affectionate movement within Ben’s hair, “he’s gay.” 

And, _just like that,_ the TV is paused again. 

“Wh—he’s gay?” Ben asks, eyes wide and eager, “did you just say he’s _gay?”_

Callum nods, carelessly. “Googled him when you went to the loo.” 

It feels like several minutes pass before the younger man finds the mental capacity to speak again, his mouth _opening, closing, opening._ Callum half expects a scolding, to be interrogated on why he was _‘doing his research’_ , especially when he was doing so in Ben’s absence. 

But instead, _“you’re dumped,”_ is what sounds from Ben’s mouth. 

“Right,” Callum shoots back, eyes rolling in one swift, involuntary motion. “I mean, I wish you luck,” he lifts both hands in mock surrender, “but, uh...he’s a little out of your league.” 

Ben lifts his head so that it rests on Callum’s shoulder, looking up at him through his lashes, his face the depiction of innocence, _“you’re_ out of my league,” he mumbles, “an’ I’ve got you, ain’t I?”

Callum turns his own head at this, their faces touching as he allows Ben’s forehead the gentle access of resting tenderly against his own. “I thought I was dumped,” Callum jokes, a little more breathlessly than he’d like it to be, _but that’s just the way it is._

Perhaps, it’s the way it will _always_ be when it comes to Ben. 

Given moments that, somehow, still feel stolen. 

Glances that last a second, but feel as though they’re lasting a lifetime. 

Touches so small, and yet Callum feels the Earth _shift_ with each and every one. 

“I wouldn’t dump you for anythin’, babe,” Ben offers, reaching blindly for Callum’s hand in a bid to intertwine their fingers, “or _anyone,_ for that matter.” 

“Not even for Scofield?” Callum asks with a smile, but, _truth be told,_ he already knows the response. 

Because in moments like this, when eyes search eyes alike, two reflections of an oceanic blue come together seamlessly. 

No matter the question, it meets its answer every time. 

“Not even for Scofield,” Ben mouths back.

_Just as Callum had expected._


	6. Lockdown: Day Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt that Callum and Ben snuggle during lockdown _(very original idea, Jess, thank you)._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again, my loves :) 
> 
> I've given up on the promise that this will be updated once a day, as I'm just not in the headspace to do so, and for that I'm so sorry. 
> 
> However, I will get it finished, and I will update as and when I can :) 
> 
> Thanks for all the lovely comments, Kudos/Feedback really are so motivating for me. 
> 
> So much love xx

Ever since isolation had officially begun, Callum found himself forcing Ben out of bed each day. 

Granted, he was forcing _himself_ out too, but that was mostly because he’d been predisposed to Ben’s sheer reluctance when it came to facing the day, especially given the fact that they couldn’t make any real plans.

So far, Callum had always managed to convince his boyfriend otherwise, be it with going for a morning walk together, facetiming Lexi for one of her virtual P.E workouts, or simply asking Ben to exist with Callum as they would in bed, _together..._ just elsewhere. 

Like, on the sofa, perhaps. 

But of course, by Ben’s logic, today was completely different to the days prior. 

Today, they _really_ didn’t need to move, because it was a Sunday, and _that_ was the very green light that they needed to stay within the duvet, no matter the hour. 

“It’s a Sunday, babe,” Ben had mumbled into the heat of Callum’s skin this morning, “God’s day of rest, init?” 

“Of course it is,” Callum had entertained with a small shake of the head, side-eyeing his boyfriend and pitching a sarcastic tone, “suddenly it all makes sense.”

Ben had hummed in return, and the fizzing vibrations against Callum’s neck elicited uninvited goosebumps on his skin, giving his other half even _further the impression_ that he was happy to stay in bed. 

And, somehow, the impression had _stuck._

That conversation took place just after ten this morning, and it’s now just before four in the afternoon. 

Six hours of holding, of touching, of _taking one another apart,_ each amidst sacred conversation, no matter how meaningless, because it was _here. Together._

Ben and Callum; nobody else around.

Callum has one arm wrapped comfortably around Ben’s waist, the other tucked by his side taking the entirety of his body weight, and _yes,_ it’s a little uncomfortable, but that doesn’t matter. 

He’s pretty sure that Ben is sleeping at present, his back tucked against Callum’s torso, his breathing paced out, steady and peaceful. They fit together so well, _too_ well, and it’s in these momentary pleasures that Callum takes time out to thank his lucky stars that this, that _Ben,_ is his. 

He shifts the arm that’s hanging over Ben’s form, bringing his fingertips to a gentle rest on Ben’s bare shoulder, dancing in slow motion, crafting patterns of promise with each movement. 

Ben stirs a little in response to the touch, and whilst it’s not enough to elicit the opening of his eyes, it’s enough to encourage him to roll over, burying himself into Callum’s chest as much as humanly possible. There’s a purity to the movement, an almost _childlike_ naivety that heightens Callum’s ever present need to protect Ben.

He wants to frame the moment, to bottle up the innocence and to let Ben hold it close _whenever_ he feels like things are pulling him under. Should the future try to mould Ben into something that, _at heart,_ he’s really not? That’s when Callum will reflect on moments like this. 

He’ll reflect on the way that Ben’s hand rests upon his chest, nestling his face into the gap between Callum’s shoulder and neck; a home he’s built for himself. He’ll picture the way Ben hooks his leg over Callum’s, drawing the two of them closer, mumbling incoherencies into the silence as he wakes up, hazy and disorientated.

“What time is it?” Ben mumbles, turning over onto his back as he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, “have I been asleep long?” 

Callum props himself onto his side with his elbow, tapping Ben fondly on the nose with his index finger. “I was enjoying the peace, actually,” he says with a smile. 

Ben grumbles half-heartedly, still well within the aftermath of a peaceful slumber. He reaches his arm out to the bedside cabinet, grabbing his phone and checking it disinterestedly, a smirk emerging on his face when he catches a glimpse of the time. 

“Four o’clock,” Ben chimes in disbelief, side-eyeing Callum as he does so, “not bad for Mr. _We-ain’t-stayin-in-bed-all-day.”_

“Yeah well, you were sleeping,” Callum argues softly, miming the action as he does so, “I didn’t wanna disturb you.” 

“Ah, is that so?” Ben whispers, his eyelids heavy and falling closed again as he settles himself back into the comfort of Callum’s arms, “so selfless of you.” 

“Ben,” Callum whines in annoyance, tapping his boyfriend repeatedly at the top of his back, “Ben, are you going back to sleep?” 

Ben hums into Callum’s skin, making little effort to open his eyes, “nothing else to do, is there?” he mumbles, but Callum’s restlessness is kicking in, regardless. 

“We could go for a walk?” the older man suggests, glancing almost _longingly_ at the bedroom window.

“I can’t be bothered to talk, babe.”

“No, I said... _Ben,”_ Callum taps him again, but this time on the cheek, encouraging Ben to look at him, to see him, to _hear_ him, “I said _walk._ We could go for a walk?” 

Ben’s face softens slightly at the suggestion, his lazy, blue eyes searching Callum’s with an expression that looks a _hell-of-a-lot_ like disappointment, “don’t you like lying ‘ere with me?” 

The sincerity laced within his tone pulls desperately at Callum’s heartstrings, whose lips upturn into an involuntary smile in response, _smitten._ There’s no mistaking the element of insecurity that’s present, and the question of _‘are you tired of spending time with me?’_ echoes loud without being spoken.

“Of course I do,” Callum murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to Ben’s hairline, _“of course I do.”_ He pushes the duvet back a little, past his boyfriend’s shoulders and down to his waist, making way for his hand to pave tender lines along the curvature of Ben’s spine. “Y’know what I’m like, though,” he explains, his senses honing in on the way Ben feels beneath his touch, “I like to be on the go...I like to be _doin’_ stuff.” 

_“Doin’ stuff?”_ the younger man repeats, a smile so wide that it can be _heard,_ “did you just say _doin’_ stuff?”

Callum huffs. “Not that,” he deadpans, batting away Ben’s wandering hand.

“Have you lost your sex drive, babe?” 

“I think you’ve nicked it from me,” Callum jokes with a roll of the eyes, “yours has _doubled_.” 

Ben smirks, his eyebrows shifting upwards, “ain't my fault you’re so handsome, is it, babe?” he says, his voice barely surpassing a whisper as he averts his attention to Callum’s neck, mouthing at the sensitive spot just below his earlobe, _“too handsome,”_ he adds.

Callum chuckles, although it’s lost amidst the groan of arousal that emerges from the back of his throat, “have you gone blind as well as deaf?” 

Ben seems to be paying very little attention to the muffled sound of his boyfriend’s voice, failing to hear what had been said. “What?” he asks, his intrigue pushing its way through short, concentrated breaths, still very much focused on changing Callum’s mind.

“I said, _m’fuck,”_ Callum whines, turning his head and allowing Ben better access, the hair on his skin standing on edge, “I _said_ have you gone...gone blind as w-well as deaf?” 

The feeling of open-mouthed kisses on the side of his neck comes to a sudden halt, and Callum matches the frown that Ben greets him with, his hair already a little wayward from the way Ben had threaded his fingers through it, prior. 

“Why would you say that?” Ben asks, bringing the hand that resides in Callum’s hair to settle on his face instead, thumb stroking at his cheek tentatively, “why would you say that?” 

Callum shrugs, his demeanor humble as he leans ever-so-slightly into Ben’s touch. 

For most of his life, Callum had been the modest type; his ego absent and his self-confidence ebbing lower than most. It’s not that he doesn’t like himself, it’s not that he doesn’t value his own worth, it’s just... _well,_ it’s _Ben,_ isn’t it?

Ben with that look about him that, even with all the will in the world, you just _can’t_ forget. 

Ben with his confident exterior, a charm that leaves all in its wake wanting more. 

Ben with a presencethat you _feel_ before you even see, harbouring a mysterious blue in his eyes that leaves the Earth’s oceans quivering with envy. 

Ben, an intoxicating mix of beauty and damage; it would be senseless to assume that Callum could _ever_ feel enchanting enough for someone like that. 

“Are you serious?” Ben asks in disbelief, the eye-contact they hold never faltering.

Again, Callum is helpless to do anything but shrug. It was a throwaway comment, really, something he hadn’t put much thought into, and so he’s taken aback by the concern on Ben’s face. “It was just...I was just…” he mumbles, tripping over his words as he wills for Ben to forget about it. 

_But Ben won’t._

_He can’t._

“Callum, youare…” Ben starts, clambering up onto his knees and letting the duvet beneath him, and his voice is hoarse as he speaks, “you have _no idea_ what you do to me.” 

A transitory silence falls upon them as Ben grabs at both of Callum’s hands, holding them, _enveloping_ them, following his eyes wherever they may choose to settle. 

Eventually, they settle on the wall, looking past Ben, looking _past_ the compliments that reside on the tip of his tongue. There’s a sudden touch just above Callum’s knee, and it comes from their intertwined hands. Ben loosens his grip, allowing his fingertips to roam freely, _fervently,_ further up Callum’s leg, pushing for his attention. 

It’s only a matter of time before Callum gives him it, meeting Ben’s gaze with obvious intent. 

“I don’t wanna hear you say anything like that, again,” Ben whispers as he leans in closer, and Callum’s grin is teasing in return. 

“Just be grateful you _heard_ something,” he taunts, but it’s loving; no judgement. 

Ben hums, narrowing his eyes as he does so, and he snakes a hand around the back of the older man’s neck. “I’m just gonna pretend I _didn’t_ hear that bit,” he whispers, before pulling Callum in, kissing him with an unwavering intensity. 

And, _yeah,_ maybe today _is_ different.

Maybe Callum _will_ stay in bed a little bit longer.


	7. Lockdown: Day Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt that Ben and Callum talk about how different things could have been.
> 
>  **TW:** the very slightest reference to death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! 
> 
> I've started updating my multi-chap AU again, so I'm just working between this one and that one, now! :) 
> 
> Thank you SO much for all the amazing comments on these little snippets, it's really so encouraging to read and I'm touched that you guys are enjoying them. 
> 
> Here's day number seven! 
> 
> So much love xx

“How come we never get weather like this when we can actually _go places?”_ Callum complains, pulling the curtain aside with his hand and glancing out of the window. 

The sun illuminates the blue sky, rays of brightened heat dripping through the window and casting a shadow behind him. It’s a glorious afternoon, the birds each sounding their enjoyment of the peace and quiet, barely a soul to be seen on the square.

Two loving arms make their way around Callum’s middle, and he leans back into the touch as Ben’s voice sounds in his ear, “I didn’t catch a word of that,” he says, tucking his chin onto Callum’s shoulder, “but I can only _assume_ you were complainin’ about bein’ stuck inside.”

Callum adjusts himself in Ben’s arms, spinning around and maintaining their closeness all the while. He brings his hands up to the younger man’s face, tapping lightly against his cheek, “you know me too well.” 

“Not exactly,” Ben confesses with a loving smile, his gaze shifting from Callum, to the window, and back to Callum again, “it doesn’t take a genius to work out that the weather looks good _out there,”_ he points over the taller man’s shoulder, “and we’re trapped _in here,”_ Ben theorizes, glancing around the living room. 

Callum scrunches his nose up, an adorable frown materialising on his face. “Rubbish, init?” he grumbles, but Ben just shrugs in return.

“Why don’t we go for a walk, then?” 

“We can’t,” Callum replies with a shake of the head, his arms now laced around Ben’s shoulders, “we already went this morning, a-and the rules are one—”

“—form of exercise a day, _yes,_ alright _mum,”_ Ben finishes the sentence, his tone dry, “why’d you ‘av to follow _all_ of the rules _all_ of the time?”

Callum gives him a condescending glare, and the younger man can already pre-empt the lecture that his boyfriend is about to give. 

“Because, the _longer_ people take the mick, the longer—”

“—this lockdown is gonna go on, _yes_ I know, babe,” Ben cuts in for the second time, “who put 50p in _you_ this afternoon?”

Callum sighs, breaking their connection and perching on the edge of the windowsill, “I just wanna go outside, Ben,” he whines, throwing his arms dramatically in the air like a tantruming child, “I-I’m _sick_ of the same four walls.”

Ben juts his bottom lip out, cocking his head to one side. “Diddums,” he mocks. 

“I’m being serious,” Callum huffs back. He folds his arms in a strop, neck craning sideways to catch another glimpse of the outdoors, but he can see Ben smirking at him out of the corner of his eye. “I’m being _serious,”_ he repeats, but he’s helpless to do anything other than break out into a smile of his own. 

“Yeah, I heard you the first time,” Ben replies back with a roll of the eyes, “believe it or not.” He closes a bit of the gap between them, taking one of Callum’s hands into his own with a somewhat sympathetic look. _“How about_ we set up a little beer garden of our own?” he offers cheerfully, nodding in the direction of the kitchen. 

Callum scoffs.“What, in the backyard?” 

_“Hard?”_ Ben replies, his expression baffled as he persists, oblivious to the miscommunication, “what’s hard about that, babe?”

Callum’s eyes close for a moment, shaking his head subtly and opting to let it slide for _both_ their sakes. “Nothing, Ben,” he says with a fond smile, giving one of his hands a squeeze, “you know what? That’s a good shout, actually.” 

The look on his boyfriend’s face is one of sheer pride and accomplishment, almost as though he’d just suggested something monumental. _Revolutionary,_ even. “Yeah?” he asks, full of a sudden bout of enthusiasm. 

_And people say the man before Callum is bad news. Dangerous. Not to be trusted._

He shakes his head at the very prospect, beaming all the while as he attempts to throw a wink in Ben’s direction.

“I’ll get us some beers.” 

…

“Compliments to the chef,” Ben muses, licking the remnants of sauce off of his fingers, “that was top tier grub, babe.” He picks up his paper plate, tossing it like a frisbee over to where Callum is standing. 

_“That,”_ Callum starts, reaching to catch the plate and, much to his outward surprise, _succeeding,_ “was a couple of burgers cooked on a disposable barbecue from the minute mart,” he points out, matter-of-factly.

It’s true, of course, but Ben clicks his tongue at the remark nonetheless, shaking his head at the casual self-depreciation that _so often_ seeps through when it comes to Callum. “What can I say?” he chimes, cheerily tapping the arms of his chair, “I’m easily pleased.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Callum says, heading into the kitchen to bin the paper plates, giving his boyfriend a light kiss on the head as he makes his way past. He opens up the fridge, grabbing another two beers and popping off the tops, smiling away to himself. 

Truth be told, one week in and Callum is getting _far_ too used to this - to being around Ben on a 24/7 basis. The little luxury of talking to him all the time, telling him things the very _second_ that they materialise as a thought. 

The underrated bliss of touching himwhenever _, wherever,_ not even sexually, just the basic physical contact. It’s a sense of closeness that Callum didn’t even know he was missing until he had unwavering access to it. 

The cuddling on the sofa, knees touching under the dinner table, standing shoulder to shoulder as Callum does the washing up and Ben just, _well,_ hovers by him uselessly. 

Who knew that sitting on a deck chair in the _shoddy_ backyard of the Mitchell household would bring an individual so much indisputable happiness? 

And yet it does, it _really_ does. 

“What are you smirkin’ at?” Ben interrogates Callum as he returns with the beers, that same smile still playing on his lips. 

“This,” Callum says with a shrug, taking his seat beside Ben and passing him a bottle, _“us.”_

“What about us?” Ben asks, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Just weird, init?” Callum muses, his gaze fixated on the gate ahead as he drifts off into deep thought. No sooner has he done so, he realises his mistake, averting his attention to Ben to help him lipread. _“It’s just weird,”_ he repeats, slower this time. 

His boyfriend’s flummoxed expression remains, evidently struggling to see whatever it is that’s _‘weird’_ about their relationship. 

“Do you ever just think about how different things could’ve been?” Callum adds on, and Ben’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. 

“What?” he smirks, “you mean if you’d carried on waving the flag for the _straight parade?”_ He brings his beer bottle up to his lips, taking a nonchalant sip, “I try not to think about that, if I’m honest.” 

“I mean, what if I’d never told Whitney?” Callum continues, ignoring the jab of mocking from his other half, “what if I was still with her, now?” 

“Then you’d be cheatin’ on her wi’ _me,”_ Ben states with a teasing grin, a little too knowingly for Callum’s liking.

Still, the older man doesn’t deny it, rather jabbing his teeth into his lower lip with a shake of the head. “You’re unbearable,” he scolds, but there’s a smile that threatens beneath. 

He drops his gaze to the rim of the beer bottle, his index finger following it around in mindless circles as a question lies heavy on his lips. 

“D’you think everything happens for a reason?” is what Callum asks, eventually.

 _‘Do you think it was fate that we met?’_ is what he means _._

Ben’s body language changes, an expression once light-hearted now transcending into much deeper thought. It’s obvious that the point of discussion has ignited _something_ within him _,_ Callum just isn’t entirely sure what. 

Aside from the evening breeze that whistles in the background, an unfamiliar silence settles around them. It’s not necessarily a negative kind of silence, it _certainly_ isn’t uncomfortable (it couldn’t ever be with Ben and Callum, now). 

No, Calllum _knows_ this kind of silence. 

It’s apprehension. It’s a touch of hesitance. It’s _Ben._

This is _his_ silence, the kind of silence that translates to _‘I don’t know how to say this’,_ or _‘I want to say this, I just don’t know how.’_

The kind of silence that Callum responds to with understanding and patience. He holds a space to listen, a space that promises no judgement, and he _waits._

Because, Ben interjects this kind of silence in his own time. 

He speaks when he’s ready. 

“I dunno,” the younger man mumbles after a minute or so, and Callum offers him an attentive gaze without a second thought. “I mean, I thought I did...when things started working out with Paul, I…” Ben shifts in his seat, taking another swig of his beer, “I thought that was it, y’know? I’d stopped lyin’ to myself, a-and this was my chance. The really _bad_ stuff was behind me, and...I _dunno_. I feel like I was given the opportunity to prove myself...to _be_ myself.” 

Callum maintains the silence on his end, nodding approachably, _carefully._

Moments like this were precious. 

They were few and far between, balancing on a thin line with the risk of a fall. Should Callum swing open the gate of this backyard, exposing _their_ world to the rest of _that_ world, Ben’s reserve would build back up within an instant. 

But, instead, this is what they’d created over the past week. 

A safe space. A home. A world of their own. 

He’d be lying if he said he was as desperate for it to end as the rest of the nation. 

“And then, _y’know,”_ Ben continues, pulling Callum out of his momentary daydream, “Paul was gone, and I... _well,”_ his smile is bittersweet, gaze settled firmly ahead, “maybe bad karma never stops happening to _bad people._ Maybe _that’s_ why things happened the way that they did.” 

Callum can feel the defences clawing at his throat as Ben suggests so casually that he’s a bad person, still thinkingso _nonchalantly_ thathe deserves bad things, but he manages to swallow them back. 

Ben isn’t saying this for sympathy or reassurances, Callum knows that. He’s saying it because he feels comfortable doing so. Callum has held the space open, and Ben has stepped into such at his own accord.

Still, the older man can’t help but voice what comes to mind, next. 

“You met me, though,” he offers with sincerity. 

“Exactly,” Ben laughs, mocking him with a face, _“bad karma at its finest.”_

“Right,” Callum frowns, although he can recognise the joking nature, “ _charming_.”

Another quiet spell follows, differing again to the last, settling itself peacefully amongst them. 

This time, it’s the accepting kind, intertwined with the air, holding no real weight. There’s no pressure for either man to break it, no long awaited moment in which one of them finally speaks. 

But when that moment does arrive moments later, it’s Ben who does so. 

“I think we were meant to meet,” he says, resting a hand gingerly on Callum’s, a gesture of confession that he’d been mulling over the question further. 

Callum looks across at him with a shy smile. “You believe in fate, then?” he asks. 

Their chairs sit side by side, close enough for Ben to nestle his head upon Callum’s shoulder, eyelids fluttering shut at the new-found contact.

“Maybe,” he murmurs. 

_“Yes,”_ he means. 


	8. Lockdown: Day Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt that Callum keeps snacking during isolation, much to Ben's annoyance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone :) 
> 
> Thanks again for your invaluable patience, it really is so appreciated - I try to update as and when I'm in the right mindset (without leaving people hanging too long, haha) - I hope that they are always worth waiting for, at least. 
> 
> Here is day eight, based on a suggestion from the wonderful Becca<3 
> 
> Enjoy! Xx

From being a kid, right through to the humble age of 29, Callum has _always_ had a big appetite. 

It’s something that, no matter the circumstances, never seems to change, even in the climates that you assume it would. 

He could be riddled with the _worst_ kind of flu, he could be going through the _worst_ kind of time, but it doesn’t matter - Callum will always find the capacity, both in the mental and physical sense, to eat something. 

_Hell,_ even when he split with Ben back in December, he found the time to eat. 

Sure, he didn’t want to, not by _any_ stretch of his broken hearted imagination, but he needed to. And, for all his mind back then was a chaotic whirlwind of broken promises and unrequited _I love yous,_ it still made the space to tell Callum - **you need to eat.**

He believes in the power of nutrition, and the sheer importance of giving your body what it needs - energy, energy, _energy._ Especially when _said_ body is serving in the army, or _even_ going through a traumatic break-up, or... _you know..._ isolating in the midst of a global pandemic. 

It’s all about taking care of your body in the same way that your body takes care of _you,_ according to Callum. 

Or, as Ben had called it last night...

“That is just pure greed, babe.” 

“Err, _what is?”_ Callum had retorted through a mouthful of maltesers, shielding such with his hand. 

Ben pulled a face, arms flinging dramatically to his side in a bid to explain that he hadn’t caught a _word_ of what his other half had spat out. 

“Sorry,” Callum said, swallowing the last of the chocolate and getting a grip on his boyfriend’s hearing situation again, “what’s the problem?” he’d asked in genuine confusion. 

Throwing the empty packet at his boyfriend, Ben went on to explain that consuming _his_ share bag of maltesers in the space of thirty minutes (after just coming downstairs _‘for a drink’_ , no less) was the very thing that he was referring to. 

“In my defence, we’ve barely eaten all day,” Callum had defended, referencing the fact that they’d spent the majority of their time in bed, “and nobody told me these were _your_ maltesers, Ben.” 

“I told you, Callum,” Ben had argued in a monumental strop, _“I_ told you.” 

And, _yes,_ claiming a share bag of maltesers seemed like the ultimate _Ben_ thing to do; his boyfriend probably _had_ told him at some point. 

But, had he somehow known such an hour prior, would Callum have chosen _not_ to eat the maltesers? 

His ever-present appetite says _probably_ _not._

And, when Ben brings it up again, _so does he._

“You know how you said you didn’t know those chocolates were mine?” he muses over the top of some _mind-numbing_ daytime game show, curled into Callum’s side as he so oftenis in front of the TV.

The older man shifts to look down at him. “Yeah?” 

“Let’s say you _did_ know—”

”I didn’t _._ ” 

“But, let’s say you did,” Ben persists, raising an eyebrow at his boyfriend’s defenses, “would you have eaten ‘em, anyway?” 

Callum answers a definitive _“no”_ without a beat of hesitation, but Ben is entirely silent in response, eliciting a somewhat offended reaction from the supposed guilty party.

Pulling his hand away from where it’s woven loosely into Ben’s hair, Callum’s face is radiant with sincerity, placing that same hand over his chest in a pledge of innocence. “I would not intentionally eat your chocolates,” he promises, repeating himself the very _second_ that Ben doesn’t reply. “Ben, I would _not_ intentionally eat your—”

“Alright, babe, _alright,”_ Ben grins, pulling at Callum’s hand and bringing it back to the top of his head, “I heard you.” 

“Good,” Callum shoots back, ruffling the hair that his hand is redirected back to, “I’ll go to the shops in a bit and get you some more.” 

Ben tilts his head back, pressing it into Callum’s stomach so he can glance upwards and meet his boyfriend’s gaze. “We ain’t got anymore, babe,” he says, accusingly, “we only had one bag...you scoffed the lot.” 

“I know _,”_ Callum nods, “I said I’d get you _some more.”_

For a split second, Ben’s smile is sad; the frustration of mishearing something never does get any easier. “Oh,” he mumbles, “good.” 

Callum presses a kiss into the other man’s hairline; it’s short and sweet, a gesture of understanding, and a promise that he will repeat himself as _many_ times as necessary - it really doesn’t matter to him. 

“Want me to go now?” he asks, speaking directly into Ben’s ear. 

“S’fine,” Ben reassures, turning his face and burrowing his nose into the homely and familiar scent of Callum’s t-shirt, “I am quite hungry now, though.”

Callum hums in agreement. “Want me to make you summing?” he offers, feeling the way Ben shakes his head against him. 

“No point,” replies Ben, “we’ll be ‘avin dinner soon.” 

His thoughts fade out into a pensive silence, one that eventually dissipates as he opts to voice his train of thought, shifting himself reluctantly out of Callum’s embrace. “Might just get some toast,” he suggests with a shrug. 

Despite all of the older man’s efforts to be subtle, the shift in his facial expression gives the game away almost immediately, and Ben shoots an accusing glare in his direction. 

He clenches his jaw, averting his gaze to the wall ahead of him. “We ain’t got any bread, ‘av we?” 

It’s the hesitant pause that gives Ben his answer. 

“Callum?!” he snaps, only _half_ infuriated, half amused. 

“I had some toast before my run.” 

“What, _a full loaf?”_

Callum scratches just above his brow, knowing fine well he needs to _look_ at Ben to help him hear, but the humiliation makes it that little bit harder to do so.

“Only five slices,” Callum mumbles sheepishly, receiving a light shove in the arm from his boyfriend. 

When he looks up, Ben is pulling at the bottom of his own ear lobe, eyes widened and expression irritated.

“Five slices,” Callum repeats, holding up four fingers and a thumb, “I only had _five slices.”_

“And how many slices of bread were actually left?” 

Callum bites at his lip, desperately trying not to laugh at Ben’s irate reaction. “Five,” he says diffidently, holding his hand up again for Ben to count. 

“Right,” Ben says, folding his arms across his chest, “a-and you didn’t think to leave any for the other members of the household?” He exhales loudly, flopping backwards so that he rests both dramatically and _despairingly_ against the sofa, “what am I even _saying_ ‘other members of the house’, th-this is **my** house!” 

Smirking ever so slightly, Callum prods a mocking finger into the younger man’s ribs. “Your dad’s house, Ben.” 

“Don’t push it.” 

“I’m not,” Callum chuckles, but his other half just continues to engage in a staring contest with the wall. 

Ben sits and sulks outrageously, and every touch that Callum offers out gets batted away with a furious hand.

Frankly, it only amuses the older man _more._

“Five slices of toast,” Ben grumbles, almost as though it’s the most audacious thing he’s ever heard, “who eats _five slices_ at a time?” 

It’s Callum’s turn to sulk this time. “I was going running,” he says, defeatedly. 

“How’d you not get a stitch after that _feast?”_ Ben asks, scrunching up his nose and eliciting a roll of the eyes from his boyfriend. 

“Well obviously I ate well in advance, you numpty,” he states, matter-of-factly. 

“Err, don’t you _numpty_ me,” Ben’s mouth hangs open a little, his arms still folded indignantly, “you’re the one who’s cleaned out the cupboards with your...your _gob.”_

“A bag of maltesers, Ben...and a couple of slices of toast.”

“Five slices,” the younger man cuts in, childishly. 

Callum holds up his hands in mock innocence. “Alright,” he admits, “five slices.” He falls silent, waiting for Ben to reconnect their eye contact; to smile at Callum and say that his mood has been and gone, but, of course, this is _Ben Mitchell_ they’re talking about - _it doesn’t happen._

“Do you want some crisps?” Callum tries, talking as clearly as possible given that the other man won’t even look at him. 

“Nope.” 

“How about summing from the fridge?” 

Ben scoffs. “Vege? Are you ‘avin me on, or what?” 

“No, I didn’t…” Callum starts, but as he so often does nowadays, he reigns it in. Now is _no time_ to start throwing out corrections - it would only add salt to the wound. “Shall I just start dinner, then?” 

He’s greeted with no response, and Callum takes the lack of retaliation as a ‘yes’, lifting himself off of the couch to make a start on their meal for tonight. The very second that he does so, Ben frowns at him, the petulant moodiness that he once wore on his face now dissipating into innocent sadness. It doesn’t matter the terms that they’re on - his neediness never falters. 

“Where are you going?” he asks, softly. 

“I’m going to start dinner, Ben,” Callum explains, gesturing towards the kitchen, _“dinner.”_

“Oh,” his boyfriend mouths, trying not to smile at how very domesticated they’d become over the past week or so. “What we ‘avin?” 

Callum pauses, shrugging lightly. “I dunno...I was just gonna have a browse, see what we have in,” he says, “what d’you fancy?” 

“Maltesers,” Ben reaches across the sofa to grab one of the throw cushions, his tone accusing as he speaks “... _bread,_ ” he rhymes off, chucking the cushion at his boyfriend, _“you,_ luckily!”

Callum takes the soft blow to the side of his head, laughing as he throws it back with equal force. “First two ain’t on the menu,” he chimes. 

“And the third?” Ben grins, and Callum returns the smile with ease. 

“We’ll see.” 


	9. Lockdown: Day Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt that an enthusiastic Callum downloads TikTok, much to Ben's dismay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my lovelies <3
> 
> Thanks, as always, for your invaluable patience. 
> 
> The feedback I've had on this fic has been so so lovely, surpassing any expectations that I had when I first started writing it. It's such a small, silly idea, but I'm glad it's bringing a smile to so many faces. 
> 
> That's all I ever want to do. 
> 
> Keep hopeful and keep happy, even if Ballum is the only way you know how<3 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, it was requested by about 7 people, ha!
> 
>  **NOTE:** The kind of TikToks I reference in this chapter are linked below, just to give people a mental image, haha! 
> 
> TikTok One: [Couples Challenge](https://vm.tiktok.com/7bPEVL/>Couples%20Challenge</a>%0A%0ATikTok%20Two:%20<a%20href=)
> 
> TikTok Two: [Dog on Facetime](https://vm.tiktok.com/7buwtd/)
> 
> All the love xx

_Nine days._

That’s how long Callum had resisted the temptation to download the app that had taken the world by storm. 

He’d heard things about it, read things about it, even _seen_ things from it on other social media apps. TikTok was all the rage, and yet, as a 29 year old, it felt a little unlawful to even _contemplate_ downloading such. 

In fact, Callum is pretty certain that his boyfriend would probably consider it a _dump-able_ offence. 

”Oh, it’s so funny, Cal, honestly,” Lola had said to him on FaceTime yesterday, having called whilst Ben was in the shower, “seriously, it’ll give you a proper laugh.” 

Callum pulled a face, acting as though he hadn’t been tempted _a hundred times_ before this phone call even took place. “I don’t really get what it is,” he’d said.

“It’s hard to explain...I don’t suppose it’ll make any sense unless you get it,” the blonde explained as her daughter appeared behind her, “we love TikTok don’t we, Lex?” 

Lexi had nodded enthusiastically, a somewhat toothless grin flashed in Callum’s direction. “You should learn the dances with daddy,” she suggested, twirling her hair in her hands.

Callum and Lola exchanged a bemused glance, both well aware of the fact that Ben would sooner gauge his eyes out with a _teaspoon_ than try to participate in any kind of mainstream dancing challenge, in front of Callum _no less_. 

“I’ll, uh...I’ll see what I can do, Lex,” Callum had lied, but preempting Ben’s reluctance to participate didn’t stop him from downloading the app himself. 

And, Lola was right - it _was_ a laugh a minute. 

In fact, after Ben had fallen asleep last night, curled up against Callum’s side with his head resting peacefully on his boyfriend’s chest, Callum found himself scrolling and scrolling for at _least_ an hour. 

He was conscious of his laughter, afraid that Ben would feel the vibrations of his chest, and he had to be careful not to awaken his boyfriend from the slumber that he was in. 

_Not,_ however, because he was afraid of being the reason that Ben lost any sleep, but rather because Callum simply didn’t want his other half knowing that he had TikTok. 

Still, whilst he hasn’t found out as of yet, it certainly hasn’t put a stop to Ben’s heightening suspicion of Callum’s phone activity since the morning prior. 

“Why are you on that thing so much at the minute?” Ben asks, side-eyeing his boyfriend’s mobile suspiciously with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. 

His other half doesn’t budge, leaning against the bedroom wall as he waits for Ben to finish up in the en-suite. They’ve decided to go for a walk this morning, and Callum, as per usual, got ready in far better time than his boyfriend. 

“Oi,” Ben continues, his tone irritated, “I’m the one with hearin’ problems, _ignorant!”_ He rinses his mouth out with water, dropping his toothbrush back into the pot before strutting into the bedroom, arms folded indignantly, “are you textin’ some bloke on the sly?” 

_That_ gets Callum’s attention immediately. 

“Wh- _no,_ Ben,” he reassures, finally shoving his phone into his back pocket and giving the other man his undivided attention, “don’t be so ridiculous.” 

“Well, summing on there is makin’ you laugh _way more_ than I do, these days,” Ben strops, his bottom lip jutting out as he lets the back of his knees hit the bed, sitting down in defeat, “it’s givin’ me a complex.” 

A grin materialises on Callum’s face, rolling his eyes funningly as he stands before Ben, placing his hands on the younger man’s face. “You’re the funniest person I know,” he reassures, accentuating the promise with a light kiss to the forehead. 

“The funniest?” replies Ben, looking up at him with an overwhelmingly smug expression. 

_“You heard,”_ Callum tuts, because he _hates_ it when Ben does this - practically _asks_ for a compliment and then, upon receiving it, acts as though he had the utmost confidence in such all along. 

“I did,” Ben gives in, tugging at his own earlobe moodily as he adds, “foronce.”

A loud rupture of laughter is elicited from Callum as he removes his hands from Ben’s face, holding one out for him to take. _“See?”_ he points out, pulling the younger man to his feet, “you do make me laugh.” 

Ben pouts. “Stop looking for laughs elsewhere then,” he grumbles, stroppily. 

“I ain’t lookin’ for laughs _anywhere.”_

“Maybe you’re not looking for them,” Ben admits, scratching at his chin in a bid to act nonchalant, “but you’re bloody _finding_ ‘em...I heard you laughin’ last night, an’all!” 

Callum pulls a face, taking a small step back. “What?” he asks, his tone disbelieving, “in bed? I thought you were asleep!” 

“Well, I _was_ until you woke me.”

“I can’t believe this,” Callum says, his mouth hanging open a little as he narrows his eyes accusingly. “Y’know, you are _so_ good at pretendin’ you’re sleepin’...” he pauses, a lightbulb moment suddenly materialising into an expression on his face, “were you awake the other night when I was tellin’ you about—”

 _“Yes,_ I was,” Ben cuts in with a smirk,“I mean, I ain’t got a clue what you were sayin’, but…”

“...but you chose to ignore me?” Callum replies, and it’s his turn to pout this time.

Ben smiles at him, leaning upwards to peck his boyfriend on the lips. “You do talk some rubbish, babe,” he jibes, but there’s an unmistakable fondness to his tone. 

“I was talking about David Attenborough,” Callum presses, “and those little Iguana things that were runnin’ from the snakes.” He re-enacts a little running movement with his arms, eliciting a raise of the brow from his boyfriend. 

_“_ Exactly _,”_ Ben states bluntly, _“rubbish.”_

Callum frowns, but he throws his arm around Ben nonetheless, guiding him out of the bedroom door. He reaches into his back pocket as they reach the door frame, waving his phone in the other man’s face before throwing it onto the bed. “I’ll leave this here then, shall I?” he says. 

“Good,” mutters Ben, evidently still perturbed by his boyfriend’s new found humour on the device, “gives me some time to scrub up on my jokes.” 

… 

Their walk was most definitely a welcomed break from the same four walls. 

It was a chance for them to be _them,_ to be _Ben and Callum,_ just without the claustrophobic nature of fading yellow-ish paint and ‘This Morning’ with the subtitles on. 

Given the circumstances, there had been very few people on the square, only having to offer one or two polite _‘hello’s_ during the 30 minutes before they bumped into Lola. 

“I’m just off to get Lex a doughnut,” she’d said with a roll of the eyes, “because apparently our _madame_ of a daughter classes that as an essential.” 

Callum turned to Ben, the extra distance making it a little harder for him to lipread. “She’s gettin’ Lexi a donut,” he’d said, tucking a wayward bit of Ben’s hair behind his ear, “apparently Lex sees that as an essential.” 

The younger man had grinned wildly in response to that, averting his attention to Lola. “Well, no prizes for guessing where she gets her attitude from,” he’d said, proudly. 

“You’re telling me,” the blonde had deadpanned in response. She moved closer, trying to help aid Ben’s hearing without breaking anykind of _social distancing_ rule. “Has he had you learnin’ them TikTok dances yet?” She’d added with a presumptuous smile, her head gesturing accusingly towards Callum. 

And, **that** is how Ben had found out about his boyfriend’s account. 

Of course, the latter had tried to justify such, reiterating to Ben on multiple occasions that yes, it _absolutely_ deserves the hype it gets, and _yes,_ it really is as funny as people say. 

But, just as Callum had expected, Ben wasn’t having any of it - not then, and certainly not _now._

He’s removing the bottle tops from two beers as Callum appears by his side in the kitchen, phone in hand and a naively hopeful expression at play. 

“It’s not just stupid dances, y’know,” the older man explains, echoing Ben’s words from earlier as they’d arrived home, “you can do little interactive quizzes and everything.” 

“A-and what’s the point in that?” Ben huffs, Callum following him as he makes his way into the living room, “if I wanted to do a bloody quiz with you, babe, I’d just ask you a question,” he flops back onto the sofa, passing his boyfriend a beer, “right here, right now.” 

“Go on then,” Callum prompts, basking in the momentary pause as Ben thinks on the spot. 

“Alright,” the younger man announces as he takes a swig of beer, “how old’s the Queen?” 

“What?” 

“Go on, how old’s the Queen?” 

“Wh—that’s not the kind of— _look,”_ Callum objects, shuffling closer and holding his phone in Ben’s line of sight, “watch these two.” 

Ben tries to push the device away, pleading his disinterest to his boyfriend, but Callum continues to let the TikTok play, smiling away to himself as Ben finally takes a hold of the phone.

It’s a fairly young couple, each tilting their heads in any particular direction depending upon the question that appears on screen. 

“So, _there,_ the question is ‘who’s more likely to do the cleaning?’” Callum points out, explaining the video in layman's terms. 

Ben furrows his brow, looking at Callum as though he’s lost the plot. “Well _you,_ obviously.” 

“Exactly! So you’d tilt your head towards me, a-and I’d tilt my head my way too...when we both tilt the same way, it makes the little dinging noise.” 

“You mean the noise I can’t hear?” Ben deadpans. 

“Well, a little green tick comes on the screen, too.” 

Ben rolls his eyes. “Tempting,” he says, handing the phone back to a disheartened Callum, “but I’ll pass.” 

With a fractious sigh, the older man continues to scroll idly, enthusiasm apparent in his body language when he finds something else that he thinks Ben _may_ entertain. “What about this?” he tries, “look, you love dogs!” 

“I don’t love dogs,” Ben denies, “since when did I _love dogs?”_

“But this one’s pretending to FaceTime the PM, _look,”_ Callum encourages, beaming, “it says at the top there, _facetiming Boris to find out when—”_

Ben allows his gaze to drift from the phone screen to Callum, giving his boyfriend an incredulous glare. “Yeah, I’m _deaf_ , Callum, not blind,” he dismisses, “I can read, y’know.” 

“Sorry,” the older man mumbles dismally as he locks his phone. “I don’t get how you can look at summing like that without smiling,” he stresses.

“I don’t smile often,” Ben jibes, taking the phone from his hand and chucking it onto the arm of the chair, “I save it for special occasions.” He presses a chaste kiss to Callum’s cheek, allowing his lips to linger that little bit longer as he brushes his nose against the faint stubble that resides there. 

Callum can’t see the slight smile on Ben’s face, of course, but he can feel it. 

“You’re smiling now,” he points out knowingly, his own grin surfacing as Ben’s finger hooks beneath his chin, turning Callum’s face and locking their eyes. 

“You _are_ the special occasion,” Ben murmurs, kissing his lips delicately. 

There’s a gentle nature of Ben’s that shines through in moments unexpected, and it never ceases to amaze Callum, to _ground_ him. 

“You’ve gone soft,” he mouths, shifting far enough away for Ben to lipread. _Never too far, though._

“And, you’ve got a TikTok account,” Ben whispers back, “I dunno which is worse.”

Knitting his hands together around the back of Ben’s neck, Callum is a witness to the teasing eyes that reflect his own.“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he offers, funningly. 

The kiss he gets in return is their deal. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> I'm **smugdensmitchell** on Tumblr if you ever want to come and say hi :) 
> 
> Stay safe everyone, and take care of yourselves x


End file.
